Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1887-03-25
THE RED MAN AND HIS WIFE,
The Sad Eyed and Sorrowful Indian
Woman Whose Toll Ceases Not.


A truce then to the sentimental suffer-
ings of the Indian. Let us have charity
where charity is due, ay, sorely needed.
Abate not your efforts, reader, in behalf
of the red men. He has his woes, his
true and particular bill of grievances.
But forget not the distressing case of the
Indian woman, the sad eyed and sorrow
full, whose toll never ceases, whose bur-
den is never laid down; but who journeys
on, ever in the shadow, until the end
comes and there is rest and peace in
death.
And so the day drags heavily on. A
little visiting, little racing, little hunt
ing and fishing. but poorly rewarded and
altogether unsatisfactory when judged by
the Indian S only standard, success. There
will be some games of skill for the bows
and young men, many games of chance
for young and old of all sexes and con-
ditions: for the Indian is gambler, deep
dyed and inveterate. As night approaches
the fires are rebuilt or replenished. the
pot goes on and the valley is filled with
the hustle of preparation for the evening
meal. In quality it is the same as that
which ushered in the day; in quantity it
is perhaps more: like it, it is quickly and
silently dispatched. The men may now
sleep; the sleep of careless safety. The
women, after few more duties in prepa-
ration of the morrow, they too may sleep.
When the sun has gone and the twink
ling stars have come she seeks the hardest
spot, wraps herself in the fewest and
thinnest blankets and strives to forget in
ho -.s1,,
ton the crushing labors of the day. the
| sorrowful prospect of the morrow.
1t must he said for the red man that he
keeps good hours. Darkness usually finds
him in bed, and daylight, the pangs of
hunger and the swarms of biizzing. biting
flies may be counted upon to rouse him
at the first blush of dawn. His toilet is
soon performed. In summer it is limited
to a stretch and a long drawn, chest sat
isfving yawn. ending in a querulous de-
mand for breakfast. In winter it is some
what more elaborate, but is even then
comprised in a judicious selection of
blankets and robes for the days wear;
choosing from those in which he has
passed the night greater or less guam
tity according to the inclemency of the
dies, with his boots on. He washes
never. In all things save eating, horses
and the labor of women he is scrupu-
lousy economical. He wastes nothing.
A few sticks of wood, and they are al
ways surprisingly small, suffice to keep
his lodge tolerably warm in the severest
weather. If the nights are cool, and they
frequently are so. the lodge floor at night
is a writing mass of Indians, great and
small. lying closely together for warmth.
Night has few attractions for those who
believe that it was made to sleepin. Their
savage fancy, therefore, peoples it with
harmful spirits, whose presence means no
good, whose influence is always evil bod
ing death and misfortune. Nothing short
of the direct necessity will induce them to
move or travel at night. and no form of
amusement can be conceived of attractive
enough to draw an Indian from the
blankets which he seeks at close of day.
New York Graphic.